Leave Your Lair
by P-3a
Summary: Wrathion discovers some news about his relatives' lasting legacy that he's far from pleased with. [Originally published May 2013.]
1. Chapter 1

"Say that again."

The Blacktalon Agent paused. "It's affirmative. Here are the reports." He slid a pack of papers across the table towards the Black Prince, who subtly straightened his back and accepted it with one taloned hand.

Wrathion didn't break eye contact with the Agent as he opened the package and turned over the title pages of the report. Then, he glanced down and scanned over the first page.

"Leave us," he said shortly, his gaze once more not moving from its current position.

Right gave the Blood Elven agent an apologetic glance as he left, then glanced at Left. Orcish faces were hard to read for most humans, but Left and Right had spent enough time in each others' company that Right could tell her companion and coworker was just as worried for the bad news as she was.

Left looked down at the back of Wrathion's head. She couldn't even see /his/ face, but his posture was urgent, shoulders angled back but head craned forwards to pore over the details of the report in front of him. His hands were splayed out either side of the pages and, though it was very subtle, she could see his pulse pounding in the arteries which traced their ways over the bones of his hands.

He began to tap a talon against the wooden table. Right grimaced, scoping the room to make sure they were alone. The Pandaren innkeeper - kind, quiet man, didn't ask questions - poked his head around the door; she shook her head 'no' and he left.

"This is... bad."  
It was Left who responded to the conversation opener. "Sir?"  
Wrathion paused, and spoke quietly. His tone wasn't one that he used often. "I'm quite afraid this is something I cannot leave to agents alone."  
"...sir?"  
"Ah, a matter of personal importance, as you mortals would say." The frequency of his loud tapping remained constant. "Not something you leave to other people."

He stood up abruptly, and Left could see he was shaking. She wasn't aware of the contents of the report - the context, or anything. Maybe a relative of his had been found..? He'd thought he had got them all, news otherwise could theoretically shake his confidence like this...

"You must be asking yourselves what's wrong," he stated plainly, looking them each in the eye. He flashed a knowing, but humourless, grin at them in turn; his sharpened teeth would have made it unnerving if they weren't entirely accustomed to them by now. "And I suppose I'd better tell you, seeing as you'll be accompanying me. Come with me."

Left and Right climbed the stairs two steps behind their Prince. They didn't speak, but they didn't need to. Left saw the concern in Right's posture and Right saw it in Left's expression. But Left glanced up at the back of Wrathion's head, then gave Right a reassuring smile. It'd be alright. It always had been before. Right gave a barely perceptible nod and gently let her fingers brush against Left's hand before they reached the top of the stairs.

Wrathion walked briskly towards the room he had reserved, but rarely used. More often he would knock on the door to the one next to it, where the young Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind was staying after his recent injury. Today he unlocked and opened his door; Left and Right mechanically executed their usual sweep of the room for bugs and other untowards, and when they were done, the Prince sat down heavily on his stool, dropping the report carelessly on his desk.

"My Prince," asked Right hesitantly, "has another relative been found?"  
"Of sorts." He scratched his forehead, looking at the report where it lay. "Anduin Wrynn has been compromised."


	2. Chapter 2

If you had asked Wrathion six months ago if he would ever have spent this much time... /recreating/ with a particular mortal, he would have scoffed and changed the subject.

But Anduin Wrynn had turned up at the Tavern in the Mists not a full month ago and almost immediately piqued the dragon whelp's interest. It was impossible to pinpoint exactly what it was - the way he stubbornly walked without the help of his guards despite his terrible injuries; the way the light played off his blond hair whenever it pierced the thick mists that usually shrouded the inn; the way he absolutely refused to see Azeroth in any way than filled with light and hope which just happened to be hidden; the way his soft voice and kind words hid the sharp wit befitting one of his station... but Wrathion was fascinated.

Luckily for him, he didn't even have to meddle to keep Anduin within his sphere of interaction. Every day, the Alliance prince would hobble across the landing with his odd three-tap footsteps, then sit down opposing Wrathion at the game table the whelp had arranged to be set up when he found out someone so potentially interesting was going to be staying with him. They played - Wrathion always won, of course - and talked.

"I just don't think it's appropriate to be building statues all over the place when all he's done since returning is send everyone off into different wars."  
"But surely his firm decision making is a sign to his people that he is a strong leader?" Wrathion turned over a tile and rolled the 12-sided die. "Your people should respect him for having such clear ideas in mind."  
"No they shouldn't." Anduin rolled his eyes and looked away from the table. "King or not, he needs to earn our people's respect, and he isn't doing it by driving half of Stormwind into homelessness."

Anduin looked back, then smirked widely. Wrathion had - as expected - switched the die for the one which he kept hidden inside the empty jar on his side of the table. But the look of befuddlement on Wrathion's face was to do with the fact that rather than the high-scoring face that he'd left the die on when he set it up, it was on the lowest one.

Wrathion narrowed his eyes at Anduin, who smiled brightly. "What's the matter, Wrathion? Everyone rolls low sometimes."

Anduin /knew/ he'd been cheating, and instead of confronting Wrathion about it, he'd subtly sabotaged his plans. How underhanded. How subtle. How...

Wrathion paused and tried to identify the feeling in the pit of his stomach - not wholly unpleasant - as he looked at Anduin's round face, with the hints at bruises still spoiling under his skin, and his smirk tugging at his features in just the right way.

...fascinating.

"Let's go for a walk," said Wrathion curtly, nodding to Left and Right.

It took a good half an hour to walk to Mason's Folly with Anduin's handicap. Wrathion didn't mind, although he feigned impatience. He stopped when, after the third jab at Anduin's health, Anduin broke eye contact and sighed sadly. Wrathion changed the subject.

Left and Right and, to Wrathion's distaste, two Stormwind guards followed ten paces behind. Each pair was behaving as if the other wasn't there; neither trusted the other to be competent enough to protect their charges. Wrathion was confident that, if it came to it, it was Left and Right who would come out on top.

The guards stayed at the bottom of the Folly while Anduin and Wrathion ascended. It took a while, and Wrathion kept skipping ahead and waiting for Anduin rather than slow his own pace to walk with him. He was... excited, was the best way to put it. He wanted to show Anduin the top of the Folly, and he wanted to do it /now/. If he was a full-grown dragon, he would have offered to fly Anduin to the top; though not without disappointment. Walking up was half the fun.

They reached the peak and Wrathion took a deep breath and spread his arms to gesture to the view.  
"Isn't it wonderful, my prince?"

Anduin, out of breath and leaning wordlessly on his cane, raised an eyebrow at the possessive.

"...did I say something wrong?"  
"No, just a little odd. I'm /your/ prince now, am I?"  
"Well..." Wrathion paused and breathed out. "I find myself rather hoping so."

Anduin limped over to Wrathion. Looking him in the face, in the eyes - and Wrathion detected the faintest hint at a blush against Anduin's white skin. He smiled in a manner which he hoped was reassuring and began pointing out landmarks on the green expanses below.

Wrathion talked and Anduin watched him. Every now and again, Wrathion would glance down at the blond and see his blue eyes looking up at him with rapt attention. Whether he was listening to a word Wrathion was actually saying, he didn't know; he found he didn't especially care, either. Just having Anduin's attention like this made him feel... unusual. Highly irregular.

Then Anduin's hand was at Wrathion's chin, and the words faultered in the Black Prince's throat. Thankfully, his dumbfounded silence wasn't left hanging as Anduin put his lips against Wrathion's with a measure of something resembling desperation. He pulled away just as quickly, looking almost stunned at his own actions.

Wrathion smiled, and had pulled him back into the kiss, sealing it properly.

Thinking back, it stung at his eyes to think it may all have been a falsehood.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dustwallow Marsh, then. Where is that?"  
"Near Orgrimmar, sir." Left pointed on the map. "The lair is in the south, away from the cities."  
"If we'd done this a year ago, we would have had more problems avoiding sightings," commented Right. "Although if I may make a suggestion, Sir?"  
"Go on."  
"I think we should visit here."

Right pointed to the circular mark on the map where the mana bomb had hit a few months prior, kicking off the renewed Horde-Alliance war.  
"What do we need to visit a crater for? This mission is of upmost urgency!"  
"Sir, I think it would help you understand the Horde-Alliance war with more context."  
"Why?" Wrathion tapped his finger impatiently.  
"There used to be an Alliance city there."  
"Oh."

He sighed, smoke curling out from his nostrils. "I suppose we can make a detour, then," he conceded. "On the way back."  
Left and Right made eye contact above their Prince's head, smirking at each other. Left looked back down at the map. "If we were to find a mage agent to teleport us to Ratchet then we could travel south from there. It's a neutral Steamwheedle town so we shouldn't run into any trouble."  
Wrathion nodded. The goblins were good about knowing when not to ask questions.

It didn't take long to find a Blacktalon-loyal mage; what took longer was finding one capable of the teleport they needed. Many were able to create a teleport to Orgrimmar, or said they would be capable of Theramore were it not for the leyline interference caused by the mana bomb. It took a trip to Halfhill and an increasingly esoteric exchange with a rather eccentric magician before they got what they needed.

One of Wrathion's Pandaren champions was from a farm in the area, and this magician had sold her family a set of portal shards. After sitting in the soil of the Valley of Eternal Blossoms for a day, these shards would become charged with the potential to teleport the caster to any of a number of locations. The intention of the family had been to give their second daughter, an explorative soul, a means to see the world; but Wrathion found his current need far more pressing.

Hiding in Right's backpack in his whelp form so's not to allow rumours to spread, Wrathion listened as Left and Right approached the family farm.

"Excuse me, Ms Liu?" Left addressed the middle-aged red pandaren in her native language.  
"Ah, you're... friends of Zeze's, yes?"  
"Yes." The champion's name was Liu Ze, so that was at least a recognisable nickname. "We were wondering if we would be able to requisition one or more of the portal shards you recently purchased from the Halfhill Market. We would reimburse you monetarily, of course."  
Ms Liu looked inside the house, to her daughter, who shrugged. "Sure, we'll still have plenty left," she said. "Anything to help Ze's friends."  
"Very well," smiled Ms Liu. "Come with me."

They'd planted the shards in a small plot around the back of the house, and each of them was glowing with a distinct colour. Some were orange or blue; others purple or grey. "Where was it you wanted to go?"  
"Ratchet," confirmed Right. "It's on Kalimdor."  
Ms Liu bent over and selected a yellow shard, and a green one. "These should do the trick," she nodded. "Just crack them open when you're ready. The green one's for the way back"

Left and Right thanked the family for their help - with words, gold, and the traditional offering of food for visiting a Pandaren household - and then headed over the nearest ridge out of sight, where they let Wrathion out of his hiding place.

He ruffled his wings and stretched his tiny scaled neck, then huffed smoke out through his mouth. "Did you get what we needed?"

Left nodded and showed the shards. "We have everything?"  
Wrathion confirmed. "The sooner we get this over with, the better for everyone."

Right took the shard out of Left's hand and cracked it simply over a rock. What happened next wasn't so simple - reality seemed to warp around where the crystal had snapped and almost implode inwards, before bursting out again in a flash of light. Left and Right shielded their eyes while Wrathion stared delightedly at the explosion of colour. Rapidly, the glow resolved into what was recognisably a portal. Through its glimmer could be seen busy port streets and green faces.

Left went through first, followed immediately by Wrathion, and then Right checked nobody was following them before stepping through the portal herself. It winked out behind them, nothing but the barest heat shimmer to indicate it was ever there.


	4. Chapter 4

"Excuse me, do you know where Wrathion is?"

The Blacktalon Agent shook his head, then gave Anduin a half-smile. "Do you think I'd tell you even if I did?"  
"Well... no. I suppose not."

He sighed and hobbled onwards towards Mason's Folly.

It had been three days since he'd seen the Black Prince, and he missed him.

Sure, he missed his dad too. And Stormwind. He missed Baine Bloodhoof too; they'd been friends before the whole war had kicked off again and stopped them from interacting except through coded letters. He missed the Bronzebeards. And Jaina. He almost missed Jaina the most, since she hadn't been the same since Theramore.

But no, most of all he missed Wrathion.

It was hard to rationalise to himself why, he'd reminisced that morning while taking a bath in the hot spring, the warmth seeping into his bruised bones. Alone, save for his guards. He kept turning to tell Wrathion some witty comment he'd thought of or ask a question or share a political insight, but of course Wrathion hadn't been there. It was like something was missing. Not that it was gone entirely - that it was partially here, in his mind, and the rest was elsewhere where it shouldn't be.

Maybe Wrathion was right, and he was /his/ Prince after all.

He paused half-way up the steps to Mason's Folly to catch his breath. It had been tiring coming up here with Wrathion, but somehow the whelp's presence had lifted his spirit and made it easier to continue. He'd been to the top of the Steps to Nowhere before, but he hadn't liked to spoil Wrathion's surprise. Sometimes it was more fun to let him have his victories; to see his smile, and how proud of himself he could become.

And how different he was to the Black Dragons that Anduin had met before. He remembered Lady Prestor, from the days in Stormwind when his father had been missing. She was a cruel lady, yet he always found himself trying to please her. Perhaps it was because he looked up to her commandeering spirit. Perhaps it was because she hit him when she was annoyed with him.

He wondered, briefly, if his relationship with Wrathion was somehow affected by his experience with her. How she had held him in the dark, then kidnapped his father, then kidnapped /him/ and generally messed everything around. The day her head had appeared on the gates of Stormwind had been a day of mixed feelings for Anduin, somehow. Relief, and yet somehow also... lost respect.

This was stupid. He shook his head and continued his ascent.

The sun began to pierce the mist more easily as he got further up, warming his back and easing his pain a little. He was embarassed that he had been reduced to hobbling around on a cane at his comparitively young age, but Wrathion had once reassured him that it was merely a mark of something great that he had done. Every action came with a cost, and that his action of preventing Hellscream's dreadful machinations had been well worth the injuries he had incurred. It had made Anduin feel a little more proud to rely on the cane for walking.

Still, one day he hoped he wouldn't need it any more. One day he hoped Wrathion could sit on his lap without him flinching; that Wrathion could grasp him freely wherever he pleased without concern and...

He stopped himself. How dreadfully inappropriate. His father would scoff.

Anduin sighed heavily, panting, as he reached the top of Mason's Folly. Despite the view being much the same as it was when Wrathion was there, it was somehow less vivid and yet more captivating. He stared at it for a long time, vaguely aware of the guards which followed him everywhere waiting politely about four steps down from where he was.

He hoped Wrathion would be back soon.


	5. Chapter 5

"And then- hahaha, the look on eir face," laughed Right. "You grabbed eir wrist and they looked like a Kraken had risen from the ground with eir dead grandmother!"  
Left grinned. "And then you took /pity/ on em."  
"How couldn't I?!" Right clapped her hands. "Ey was trying to pickpocket our /Prince/, how [silly] can you get?"  
"You nearly got us arrested," stated Wrathion without looking up from his papers. He was re-reading the report for the nth time. His accent in Orcish was even more fluent than Left's. "I told you to stay low, not to aid and abet criminals."

The campfire group fell quiet. Left spoke up. "You thought it was funny at the time, Sir."  
"Yes, and now I've thought about it and I don't find it funny any more. Don't do it again."

Right looked scolded; Left put her arm around her shoulders and leaned in close. "He's just agitated. It's not your fault."  
Right relaxed a little, but only a little. "I can never tell when he's jesting."  
"Me neither," admitted Left.

She looked back up at Wrathion, still holding Right close. "Can you tell us more about why we're out here, anyway?"  
"I suppose," drawled Wrathion, still not looking up. He was tapping his talon against his armoured knee. It drove Left up the wall, but she didn't dare say anything.

"As I said, the White Pawn has been compromised. I suspected it might have been the case, but my agents have confirmed it. My... sister, during her stay in Stormwind, implanted something into his mind to predispose him positively towards my father's brood. That includes me.

"It's supernatural, so it has a spell focus. That focus is within her lair; or, the cave that was her lair when she was alive, at least. It can only be activated by those who share her blood. So, after my past actions, only me."

Left and Right both nodded slowly. Right, as always, was the one to ask the dangerous question.  
"Your Majesty, surely this means that the Wrynn boy may no longer be predisposed towards /you/ when you're done?"  
Wrathion hissed loudly, baring his teeth at her. "Are you implying that I am not a likeable person, Right?"  
"No, my Prince! Of course not! I'm merely concerned for you... I know how fond you are of him." She looked down, hugging further into Left, whose gaze hovered anxiously somewhere in the air between Right and Wrathion.  
Wrathion sighed, then looked away - his version of an apology. "I will miss him dearly if he chooses to leave. But I would rather have it his choice to return to Stormwind without me, than have his decision to stay poisoned by my sister's magic."

Left and Right looked at each other. Wrathion smiled briefly - vulnerably, and it was just as well in his mind that they weren't looking. "I'm going to bed. We'll continue walking tomorrow."

Left gave Right a tight hug, then looked at her. "It'll pass soon."  
"I feel bad for baiting him, but we can't do our job without knowing the full picture."  
"You did the right thing," the orc reassured her, brushing Right's dirty blonde hair behind her ear before gently leaning in to kiss her.  
Right broke it quickly. "Thank you for watching out for me. You've always been stronger than me..."  
"No," said Left patiently, putting her finger to Right's lips and switching to Common for her companion's comfort. "We each have our own strengths. I'm better at reading the Prince, and you're better at reading everybody else."  
Right blushed and smiled, visibly reassured, and accepted the kiss this time when Left renewed it.

They slipped into their comfortable routine easily, Right leading the kiss so's Left didn't hurt her with her tusks. Left's hands explored, gently, lazily; to her shoulders, waist, hips. Humans were so small, but she found it endearing. Right, by contrast, found Left's muscles comforting and, well... hot, so it was her partner's biceps, abs, and quads which her hands were drawn to.

But each of them kept their ears alert, and took it in turns to be the one with their eyes closed. They were ever-vigilant; it was Wrathion who they'd pledged their lives to first. No matter how much they wished to spend time with each other, they each owed him their life, in their own ways.

So when his voice rang out through the night in an accusatory tone, anger rose to Left's face in an instant:  
"Just /what/ do you think you're doing?"  
"Sir!" said Right in an alarmed tone, and Left tightened her grip on her partner's shoulders as her head snapped to face Wrathion.

"I could have been assassinated," he hissed, hands cupped behind his back and bending down to face them like a teacher. "Are your loyalties so easily swayed?"  
"Sir," said Left calmly, "with all due respect, you /weren't/. And if an assassin had got close, I assure you Right and I had the situation entirely under our surveyal. If you were awake enough to watch us, then you were awake enough to monitor for an assassin."

The Black Prince stood up straight, and rubbed his goatee. Then, seemed to reach a conclusion. "Right you are," he said, then suddenly beamed unsettlingly. "Then feel free to continue.

"By the way, you're both fired."

Beat.

Then he burst into laughter.

"Ah-hahaha, the looks on your faces! By the blood of the Worldbreaker, that's what I needed. Carry on, you two."

And went back to bed. Left and Right stared at each other for a while, then laughed nervously before electing to stand silent guard at either end of Wrathion's tent.


	6. Chapter 6

Dustwallow Marsh's atmosphere was even more oppressive than that of the Krasarang Wilds. It was hot, and heavy, and smelly, and full of bugs. And Wrathion hated it.

He didn't complain, though. He imagined Left and Right's patience with him was wearing thin, and blood oaths or not, it didn't do to tick them off to the point that they would consider leaving him to whatever fate awaited him in his sister's lair. He needed their help to locate the spell focus, and he needed their help to get out safely as well. Despite his best plans, there were probably rumours spreading about a pair of Blacktalon agents travelling through Kalimdor.

Finding it easier to filter out the temperature in his whelp form, he remained in it. Left had tried to talk him out of it with tales of whelp hunters nearby, but Wrathion firmly indicated that the only whelp hunters these days were entirely loyal to him.

Which wasn't something he was 100% confident of being true, but it got Left to be quiet, at least.

He felt a mounting knot of anxiety in his scaled throat. What if they'd missed some?

Ridiculous. Of course they hadn't. Left had personally overseen the clearing of this particular cavern, and he trusted her with his life.

...but what if they had?

"You alright, your Majesty?" The orc looked back over her shoulder (Right was walking behind him).  
"Fine. Whatever gave you the impression otherwise?" He fluttered his wings impatiently.  
"You're lagging. We could take a break if you want."  
"No. I want to get this over with."  
"Yes, Sir." Right shrugged behind Wrathion, and Left gave the barest grunt.

Left was wrong, of course, but she'd picked up that he wasn't happy. He'd have to try harder to maintain his composture, clearly. But something /was/ making him nervous. As they climbed the ridge leading up to the scorched ground surrounding the lair, Wrathion found himself surpressing the urge to bolt.

He had to do this. To rid the world of his sister's influence. To rid /Anduin/ of it.

He steeled himself and followed his guard onwards.

The cave was dark, but warm. So was the rest of Dustwallow - Wrathion had a vague intuition that the entire place was sat on top of a volcano of some kind, which would explain why Onyxia had decided to make her home here. Dragons of all flights were drawn to heat and power, but the Black dragons especially. He could practically hear the lava thrumming underneath the tunnel floor, even without having his talons against it.

The winding tunnels somehow put Wrathion at ease, but he hated it. He didn't want to feel home in this place. He wanted to feel home where /he/ decided home was. At the Tavern in the Mists, with his table and his game and his guards and his - well, his Prince. Not where his sister had whelped her dreadful brood. Not where the charred bones of countless hopeful adventurers lay without so much as a post to mark their passing.

He supposed it was the madness which would make this sort of abode appealing.

They approached the main whelping chamber. The shattered shells of the eggs Wrathion himself had ordered destroyed still lay scattered over the lava-fused floor. Unease shifted in the pit of Wrathion's stomach as he spotted the splayed body of a whelp around his own age. Even though it was a monster he'd ordered put down, in death it still looked like it could have been him. Seeing it so easily struck down reminded him of his own vulnerability.

He didn't like it, so he shifted to humanoid form before addressing Left and Right.

"Where would she keep this spell focus, then?"  
Right pointed. "There's a secret tunnel behind that rock. Underneath is a set of chambers where she kept prisoners and so on, including Anduin and his father at separate dates. The focus will be there too."  
Wrathion nodded, and began to head towards it.

Then fell through a trap-door.


	7. Chapter 7

Left and Right didn't have time to scold themselves. Right did a rapid sweep of the rest of the cave while Left manhandled where she'd seen the entrance to the trapdoor. Her swift actions meant she opened it and kicked a human square in the face; he had been trying to lock the hinged pillow of lava. She would have followed it up with a crossbow bolt, but instead hauled the human up by the scruff of his neck and slammed him against the ground.

Right, satisfied with her sweep, continued down the trapdoor while Left put her knee in his diaphragm and her knife at his throat.  
"Who are you?" she growled in Common. "Yell and I'll kill you."  
He hissed, and, to Left's surprise - not that she showed it - replied in Drakonid. "His Majesty's true servants."  
She grunted and slit his throat before joining Right.

"They speak Drakonid," she breathed as she came up behind the human.  
"Why?" Right's voice was just as non-existent. They barely made a sound as they followed the winding lava-tube.  
"He said 'His Majesty's true servants'. I assume they're acolytes of the Destroyer."  
Right nodded. They didn't say another word as they followed the sound of the hurried footsteps ahead of them, and Wrathion's muffled protests.

The tunnel dipped, then opened up. Left and Right immediately split and found furniture to hide behind - chairs and tables. It looked like an... observation area? Wrathion's two assailants, a man and a woman (both human), held one each of his arms behind his back. Why didn't he just reach for his knife..?

"We're glad you finally came," said the woman. "We were wondering how long it would take you to notice what we'd done with the Wrynn boy."

Right was the one who saw the faint shimmer. He was being held in stasis by them. She made hand gestures to Left to this effect.

"Thankfully," continued the man, "now you're here we have a much more important use for you."

Left peered, and identified the crystals which held the stasis - each on their belts. Pointed to Right, then the man; and herself, then the woman.

"See those eggs?" He pointed down off the observation platform with his free hand. "All unfertilised, unfortunately. But stay with us for a few years until you're full-grown and we'll have a new brood of yours on the way. Wouldn't that be exciting?" he sang, patronisation dripping from his tone.

Wrathion gave a muffled protest. He couldn't even move his mouth. Right signalled for Left to hold off until they were done duologuing.

"We'll give you everything you need, of course," said the woman. "Though I'm afraid once you've provided what we require then your uses will be quite nonexistent."

Right gave the go-ahead.

In an instant, she and Left were behind the cultists. In the next, their hands were at their waists grasping the belts. While Wrathion's captors were in the middle of reacting, both Left and Right raised the belts above their heads and smashed the stasis crystals on their skulls.

Both cultists slumped to the floor not a moment later when Wrathion, with twin hidden blades, slashed their jugulars.

He dusted his hands off, facial expression displeased. "Left, destroy the eggs. Right, take me to the focus."

Left began deftly descending from the viewing platform to where the eggs were while Wrathion and Right stalked out of the room.

Right went first, crossbow firmly in hand. Interestingly, they didn't seem to come across any other cultists - at least not yet. She lead Wrathion to where she remembered the capture room being on the maps she'd pored over on the way here, between watches; with her superior sense of direction, it took about two minutes.

Wrathion hadn't steeled himself appropriately for what he saw.

Stone slabs with harsh shackles crunched underneath them. Two were sized for adult men; the last for a boy about Anduin's size - a little smaller - and nearby, a table of instruments. He didn't like to look at them, especially as Right was ahead of him and therefore unable to see his reaction - it's not like he had to put on a brave face. On both tables were dark stains indicating dried blood.

I mean, he knew his sister had had Anduin and his father. But not the... extent.

"The focus, Sir." Right gestured to it. Wrathion realised he must have seen him gawking, and silently thanked her for not commenting. He approached the orb, which was faintly glowing.

Right glanced to the doorway as Left appeared and began guarding it, then spoke in a hushed voice. "I don't know what will happen when you touch it. Just know it might not be pleasant. Left and I will defend you with our lives, your Majesty."  
Wrathion nodded candidly, then placed his hands on the orb.

Images filled his mind. Vague at first, and then he realised he was... looking at Anduin. He smiled fondly, involuntarily, then wiped the [silly] expression off his face as his view grew closer and eventually merged through the White Pawn's forehead. He was looking inside of Anduin's mind.

Oh, it was so tempting to root around... would it really be that immoral? He likely wouldn't find anything he couldn't get by asking Anduin the right questions, and-  
- but that was something his sister would have done. And likely did do.

He followed the chains of magic which ran through the Prince's mind and eventually found the nexus of what the spell focus was attached to. Concentrating - he did not have the knack for this manner of thing that his sister did - he took a grasp on it with his mind, and ripped it out unceremoniously.

He heard Anduin scream in sudden pain, and then his vision snapped violently and nauseatingly back into his own mind.

Steadying himself on the small table that the orb - now dull and transparent - rested on, he breathed out. "It is done," he comfirmed to Right.

As Right called Left over and they cracked the green portal shard, Wrathion pushed the defunct spell focus onto the ground and let it smash. You could never be too careful.


	8. Chapter 8

On the way back to the Tavern in the Mists from Halfhill, they made several stops. Wrathion didn't like to admit it, but he was stalling. It wasn't that he didn't need Left and Right to send Blacktalon agents to the lair to do a proper sweep of it; that he didn't need to pick up supplies to replenish the ones they used on their travels; that he didn't need to drop the stasis crystals recovered from the store room Left had investigated off to be examined; that he didn't need to stop over at the inn for lunch...

Left and Right kept looking sidelong at each other. Maybe their Prince was more affected by this than he liked to express. They entertained his whims, but at every opportunity they reminded him of where he needed to be going.

The Path of a Hundred Steps seemed disappointingly short. Wrathion dragged his feet; Left was close to asking if he needed to be carried.  
"It'll be better if you get it over with," stated Right flatly.  
"...right. Yes." Wrathion straightened his back, then glanced at Left and Right. "Not a word of my... vulnerable state to anyone, understood?"  
Right smiled kindly and Left grunted likewise. "Yes, Sir," they said in unison.

Anduin wasn't even at the tavern. The trail of Stormwind guards lead up to Mason's Folly, so that's where Wrathion went, too. Despite his nerves, Right was correct. He couldn't bear to wait another moment to see what Anduin truly thought of him.

Leaving the two of them at the bottom of the Folly, he climbed up in his humanoid form, preparing himself mentally. There was no way the Prince of Stormwind would truly like an abomination like him, but somehow Anduin had planted in him a seed of hope. And right now, that hope was that the White Pawn would see past Wrathion's heritage, past his blustering, and fake confidence, and inside of him to the deeply hurting, fearful, 2-year-old whelp that he was. And that somehow, he would see that pathetic creature and feel love for it.

Anduin turned around when he heard footsteps, and almost turned back before he truly registered who it was he was looking at.  
"...Wrathion! You're back!"  
"Aheh... yes, I am." He tried to give his usual confident grin, but it faultered somehow, and Anduin saw.  
The older prince looked down, not approaching Wrathion. "While you were away, I was thinking."

Oh no.

"We've been spending a lot of time together recently, and..."

He was going to tell him what a monster he was. He was going to tell him he was going back to Stormwind. He was going to tell him how horrid he was for all those times he made fun of his handicap.

"I missed you so much, and I couldn't stop thinking about you."

He was going to shout him down. He was going to set his guards on him. He was going to tell his father. Wrathion's head was going to be mounted on the gates of Stormwind, he just knew it, where once his dread sister's had been. He was going to shout at him for cheating. He was going to-

"And I was wondering if you would be my, er... boyfriend."

/What?/

"Eh... what?"

Anduin couldn't help but laugh, a little nervously but with a little amusement at the sheer confusion on Wrathion's face. "I know it sounds silly," he began to explain, blushing with embarassment, "but I had a dream the other night. It was about Katrana Prestor, and - it's not the first time I've had nightmares about her, but - this time was different. You turned up and just... banished her-"

"No no no no no," repeated Wrathion urgently, approaching Anduin. "If we're doing this it can't be because of any ridiculous dream you had! It has to be because you chose it!" He put his hands down on Anduin's shoulders, hard, and stared at his face. "Put that ludicrous thing out of your mind and think clearly!"

Anduin blinked. He'd never seen Wrathion this... desperate before. He breathed out, then breathed in. Wrathion smelled of woodsmoke and the propane that the gnome ships used. It made him feel giddy - not in and of itself, but because it meant Wrathion was here. Wrathion with his wit and cunning and knowing just when to back off, and just when to step up, and just how to talk to people to make them feel special, but never how to be honest - unless Anduin was there. Then he didn't know how to be anything but. And how much sheer effort he put into everything he did. And how he never did anything - not one thing - without a very good and selfless reason. And how he hated to be seen that way, because caring made you vulnerable - unless you were Anduin. Then, it was caring that made you strong.

Anduin slid his hands under Wrathion's ears, feeling him tremble under his touch, then pulled his head close and kissed him on the forehead.

"How could I choose anyone else?"


End file.
